


Gone

by phoenixsong



Category: Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-19
Updated: 2005-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixsong/pseuds/phoenixsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Burnley returned to a silent home, and didn't think to wonder why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, I attempted to Fanfic100 some missing scenes from the _Emily of New Moon_ series. This is one of the results.

Dr. Burnley returned to a silent home, and didn't think to wonder why.

The doctor hung his coat carelessly over the stair rail. It had been a long day's work, caring for Mrs. Anderson, but she finally seemed to be on the mend. As such, he felt justified in leaving her and turning his attentions back to his beloved Beatrice. No other woman could look quite so much like a Madonna holding her child as Beatrice tending to their golden-haired daughter Ilse, and he loved them both fiercely.

It was late, and the house was quiet. Perhaps they had already gone to bed, Beatrice and Ilse, and the maid hired to help with housework dismissed to her home for the night. But when he got to their bedroom, the spread was still untouched and crisply made. Ilse, however, was asleep in her crib. The maid he found dozing by the stove in the kitchen. But where was Beatrice? He touched the maid's shoulder to wake her, perhaps a little more roughly than strictly necessary, and told himself it was out of annoyance that she had fallen asleep on the job.

"Please, doctor sir, she went to the docks to see her cousin off. Isn't she back yet?"

Her cousin? Yes, the sailor, that's right. The one they all whispered about behind his back that his Beatrice loved better than her own husband. The doctor knew better, was positive his wife adored him as much as he knew she adored their child. She would never run away from him. She loved him, she loved them both. She did.

"Well. Perhaps the ship was --"

"Fire! Help, fire!" The call came from outside the window, across the field. A faint light could be seen, flickering against the deepening night sky.

"Damn. Alright, stay here with the baby. They may need my help."

* * *

Hours later, the fire was out. The baby slept on. The maid was sent home. But Beatrice was still missing, even as the sun rose.

They must have been right. She was gone. And something inside Dr. Burnley shriveled, hardened, and died.

Ilse stirred and woke with a whimper, then a cry that escalated to a shriek. Mechanically, the doctor went to his child. He tended her needs, as quickly as possible, then put her back in her bed. He supposed he should make arrangements for someone to look after her; after all, he still had to work.

He refused to think about the fact that the child should have been tended by her mother. He wouldn't think about -- _her_ \-- at all. He wouldn't. And the longer he waited for Beatrice to return, and the longer she failed to appear, the more vehemently he swore that he wouldn't let himself be swayed -- fooled -- by any mere female again.

Including his daughter.


End file.
